


Super Salt Bros.

by digirhys



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Rhys snores like a fucking train, Roommates, Vaughn is 5000 percent done, pre-game, pre-tftbl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digirhys/pseuds/digirhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rhys learns that his unconscious sleeping habits can be bad for his health.</p><p>Beta'd by <a href="http://jambandit.tumblr.com">jambandit</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Salt Bros.

Rhys’ hair was stuck up in cowlicks at fifty different angles where he’d nuzzled his face into his cool pillow in his sleep. Under different circumstances, Vaughn would have found the picture endearing. As it were, at half past three in the morning—with his alarm set to ring in just over two hours—Vaughn felt he could easily punch his best friend in the face and feel little to no remorse come sunrise. Tonight, the man’s train-like snoring was enough to wake the dead, and certainly enough to disturb the restful slumber of his roommate.

 

Vaughn squinted furiously at Rhys in the dim room—partially due to lack of glasses, but mostly out of raw loathing for the ungodly sounds coming from the guy’s mouth. It was just Vaughn’s luck that Rhys was as heavy a sleeper as he was loud a snorer. No amount of threat-laced name-calling or haplessly thrown paperback books had woken him, much to Vaughn’s ever increasing frustration.

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the circles already half formed under his eyes, and let out a sharp, determined breath. If he had not had a rather important meeting in the morning, he would have gladly found something to plug his ears or move to the sofa to seek rest. No—tonight he drew the line on Rhys’ unfortunate habit.

 

Determination clear in his eyes, Vaughn took up fistfuls of Rhys’ comforter (the man always ended up on top of it, somehow), braced himself against the carpet, and sharply tugged away from the bed. He stepped back and pulled the blanket free, dragging Rhys’ limp body straight off the edge of the mattress and on to the floor with a ‘thump’.

 

Rhys woke with a startled yell and an ungraceful flailing of limbs as he shot upright, gasping and snapping his head around in the dark.

 

“Holy shi’, th’ fuck ‘s’at?” Rhys choked on a yawn, blinking rapidly as his ECHO eye whirred to life, softly illuminating Vaughn’s figure as it stood over him, arms crossed and expression somber.

 

“Dude, what the hell? Did you...did you shove me outta bed?”

 

Even unable to see his friend in the dark, the sleep-addled betrayal in Rhys’ voice was clear and Vaughn shook his head. He rolled his eyes and turned his back on Rhys as he moved to open the bedroom door before swiftly returning, gathering up the ends of the blanket once again.

 

“ _Technically_ , I pulled you. You’re against a wall.” Vaughn’s tone was short, betraying his heightened irritation. He began slowly dragging the thick blanket and its passenger towards the open doorway. “Also, I know I told you, like, fifty times yesterday that I have a _ridiculously_ important presentation to give today.”

 

Rhys jolted slightly at the sudden movement, still half asleep and apparently uninterested in removing himself from the floor as he was dragged from their shared bedroom.

 

“You knocked me out of bed ‘cause of your presentation? Dude. You need to channel your stress better, bro. Why should I suffer?”

 

Vaughn swore he felt a vein in his head burst.

 

“I pulled you out of bed, Rhys, because you snore loud enough to wake an entire skag colony, and if I don’t get to sleep then I swear to god you _will_ suffer,” he snapped, finally dropping Rhys’ blanket once he rested outside the doorway and stepping around his would-be late-friend.

 

Rhys frowned, turning to follow Vaughn’s movements. His lips drew up into an offended pout as he swiped blearily at his roommate’s legs, apparently intent on tripping him.

 

“Bro I don’t snore. Don’t be mean.”

 

Vaughn spared Rhys an almost pitiful glance before practically slamming the door in his face, clicking the lock into place. Rhys sat there for a good thirty seconds before the realization of the situation dawned on him.

 

“Vaughn? Buddy?” Rhys shifted onto his knees and scrambled to the door, testing the doorknob to find that it was, in fact, locked. “Aw, c-c’mon man! I’m sorry! Please? I’ll stop I promise, _don’t make me sleep on the couch bro._ ”

 

On the other side, Vaughn had already tucked himself snugly back into bed. He huffed into his pillow as he buried his face and prepared to tune out Rhys’ whining for the next five minutes or so until the man gave up and resigned himself to his fate.

 

It ended up taking ten minutes before Rhys resorted to dropping his head against the door in a pathetic, rhythmic pattern, whining like a puppy that had been left outside. Vaughn prayed for patience or an untraceable gun because he swore he was going to kill his best friend if said friend didn’t cease in the next ten seconds.

 

Perhaps sensing the danger—or assuming Vaughn had fallen asleep—Rhys finally stopped. He flopped back on the floor and rubbed his forehead, an angry red mark centered on his skin the only thing to show for his persistence. Rhys stared at the ceiling dejectedly for another few minutes before he did, in fact, resign himself to sleeping in the living room. He rolled onto his side, dragging himself lazily to his feet and gathering up his blanket before shuffling over to the sofa and dropping himself onto it. It was a pathetic if not amusing sight. It was a small piece of furniture, not intended for someone of Rhys’ particular length to lie across. He irritably threw his legs over one arm of the couch and hefted his blanket up over his head, creating a sad mound of lumpy fabric and legs.

 

\----------------------------

 

Leave it to Rhys to be the only person that could sleep through an alarm and yet be woken up by the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

 

Vaughn shook his head as he watched the blanket piled on the couch get shoved aside as Rhys pulled himself upright, leaning over the back of the couch and blinking towards the kitchen with sleep-clouded eyes.

 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Vaughn snorted, taking in the sight. If Rhys’ hair had been a mess when he’d been kicked out, it was an absolute trainwreck of a mess now. Vaughn almost pitied the people that only got to see Rhys when he was properly cleaned up. This was a sight to be shared if anything was.

 

Rhys frowned as the words sunk in, taking several moments to register as his brain finally kicked into drive for the day ahead. A light blush colored his face and ears as both hands shot up to smooth back his disastrous curls and came away only halfway successful.

 

“G’morning. Coffee?” Rhys grumbled, still unable to formulate complete sentences. He pushed himself off the couch and stepped clumsily around it, nearly falling back over when he hit his leg against the arm of it. Vaughn laughed sharply and grinned, nodding to a mug on the counter.

 

“Yeah it’s all yours buddy. Hey—no hard feelings, yeah? About earlier?”

 

“Huh? Oh, no, yeah yeah. ‘s fine. We’re good,” Rhys chirped, perking up considerably at the sight of a waiting cup of coffee and his friend’s forgiveness. “I guess I’d be pretty cranky too, if, yanno. You. Yeah.” The man grumbled, his sentence trailing off as he struggled to bring himself to full functioning capacity. It was a slow process.

 

Vaughn watched carefully as Rhys lifted the mug, warming his hand against it before taking a drink, heedless of temperature. The reaction was almost instantaneous.

 

Halfway through swallowing, Rhys choked, unable to down the rest of the liquid but likewise unable to spit it out. His eyes shot up to meet Vaughn’s as his lips spread into an icy smile before carefully nursing his own drink. A violent shiver worked its way from Rhys’ toes up to the ends of his hair and he slammed the mug down so hard the ceramic nearly shattered, hot coffee sloshing over the countertop.

 

Rhys spun around and retched into the sink, gagging and spitting as he turned on the tap and jammed his mouth underneath, trying desperately to wash away the foul taste clinging to every surface in his mouth and throat. Rhys’ eyes snapped up again as Vaughn set a small cylindrical container down on the counter beside the sink, a plain label with the word ‘Salt’ printed across it. Rhys whined loudly, scrubbing frantically at his tongue with his fingers.

 

“Like I said, no hard feelings!” Vaughn sang brightly, smiling innocently and patting Rhys comfortingly on the shoulder before heading for the front door. “See you at lunch, bro.”

 

 


End file.
